


someone special

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [128]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, and then real dating, lowkey fake-dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt doesn't have a date for the annual Shatterdome Christmas party. Hermann doesn't either. You get where this is going.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [128]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	someone special

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "omg i just realized that with you writing things a few months later if i have a christmas thing i should send it in now! if i'm wrong you can just like save it until december lol. but here it is: I was going to figure out the postage and send you my heart for Christmas. But my friends talked me out of it. They said "Why would you send him something broken?""

“Hermann,” Newton says.

Hermann hums. “Hermann,” Newton says, more insistently, and accompanies it with the wet slap of kaiju intestines, and Hermann winces at the sound; contemplates the idea of ignoring the other and letting him ramble at the walls and his recorder or answer.

Maybe he’ll let whatever inane topic it is die out if Hermann ignores him.

“ _Hermann._ ”

Or not. “Yes, Newton?” Hermann sighs.

“Come to the Christmas party with me,” Newton says, “I need a date.”

“You need a— _what?_ ” Hermann splutters.

“Date,” Newton says, patiently, as if explaining it to a small child. “Y'know, like when you need a plus-one to something?”

“Yes, I understand the _concept,_ ” Hermann snaps, eying the other through the half-transparent model projections. “I merely—well—” he pauses. _Why_ me? He doesn’t ask. “Isn’t there _literally_ anyone else who you could bother with this issue, Newton?”

The other tips his head to scratch his chin with his shoulder; does something that makes the squelching increase. “Nah, man, everyone else either has dates to the party or, well—”

He pulls something out. “Hah! Got it,” he exclaims, grinning with wild abandon in a way that _really_ should be more disturbing than it is, and places… _something_ on one of the trays on the counter. “Anyway. I was saying. Uh, either they have dates, or, well, let’s be real, they’d throw their drink in my face in five minutes.”

“So would _I,_ ” Hermann points out.

“That’s different,” Newton scowls. “So—yes or no. And keep in mind that you owe me for Chanukah-‘22- Electric-Boogalo with your family.”

Hermann groans. “Dear lord. Don’t remind me. Father nearly had an aneurysm, and we were only there for one day.” They were called away the second day due to urgent work-related matters, for which Hermann is sure Lars is quite relieved about, even now. “Alright,” he says, “but if you try and get me to engage in any of your— _antics…_ ” he trails off.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Newton says; oddly serious. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman, pinky-promise.”

Hermann rolls his eyes.

The program in front of him gives a shrill beep. Model complete, the system informs him. “Right,” he says, “er—”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Newton waves him off, “thanks, anyway, dude.”

“Of course,” Hermann mutters, eyes flicking over the text. “That’s…” he trails off.

 _What friends are for,_ he nearly adds, and then thinks better of it. “Don’t mention it,” he says; instead; stiff and a bit awkwardly. Newton doesn’t even reply; he’s probably not even paying attention.

Not that he _wants_ Newton to pay attention to him—that never ends well; Newton paying attention to him means he wants Hermann to pay attention to _him,_ and that only leads to trouble.

“This is underwhelming,” Newton says, barely five minutes in; their colleagues’ chatter around them faded to a white noise, and he’s scowling into his cherry-red plastic cup full of cider and taking quick sips, lips pressing into a thin pink like and Hermann thinks perhaps—

Well; that’s hardly relevant.

“Here,” Newton says, and thrusts his beverage towards Hermann, “hold this. I gotta go get something.”

Hermann splutters a “ _What_ —” but Newton’s already gone; pushing people out of his way. Hermann sighs. Lovely; not even ten minutes in and Newton’s already gone off to do—Hermann has no idea. He thinks he heard Tendo’s name before the other went out of earshot, and that instils a deep sense of dread.

He looks into the cup; wrinkles his nose at the dull reflection of himself. He looks—haggard; to be fair, he _feels_ haggard; they all do, probably.

Newton comes back in what feels like a lifetime, but which his watch informs him is only twenty minutes. He’s holding onto Tendo and looks a little ready to fall over. “Did you find… _it?_ ” Hermann asks.

“Hmm? Oh,” Newton blinks at him, “right. Uh. Yeah.”

“Yep,” Tendo says, “we found it. _And_ we found you.”

“Er, yes,” Hermann says slowly, “ah, Newton, here’s your, er,” he stops; feels silly, suddenly, but offers him the cup anyway.

Newton stares at it for a moment, and then: “Oh. You…kept it.”

Hermann shrugs and bites back the urge to rub the back of his neck. “You asked me to keep it,” he says, instead; watches Newton’s eyes widen. “Anyone would have done the same,” he says stiffly, “don’t take it to heart.”

“Oh,” Newton says. “Yeah. Right.” He pulls away from Tendo. “Anyway. Thanks for, uh, helping Tendo. You can leave me in Hermann’s… _capable_ hands.”

“Right, brother,” Tendo says; pats his shoulder and gives a wink. “Y'all have fun.”

Newton gives a flat smile. “Well. Anything change since I left?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” Newton says. “Well.”

 _This is fine,_ Hermann thinks, and then tries not to laugh when the voice in his head sounds like Newton’s. “How long…” he trails off.

“Oh thank God,” Newton says, “I was thinking the same thing _exactly._ Wanna bail?”

“We’ve only been here forty minutes—”

“Do you wanna _bail_ or not?”

“I—” Hermann stops. “Well. Yes. I’d really like to,” he admits. “I’m tired and bored and this feels like a waste of time.”

Newton grins at him; oddly; and somehow, Hermann understands it. “Glad we got that cleared up. Your place, mine, or the lab?”

“Whatever you’d prefer,” Hermann replies, “though preferably far away from this— _racket_ that they’re passing off as _music._ ”

“Gotcha,” Newton says; and his grin is wider; and he’s leaning on Hermann, now. “Lab, then; our rooms are close enough that we’ll be able to hear this shit.”

Hermann hums. “Alright,” he says.

They’re back in the lab, and Hermann is suddenly very glad that they agreed ages ago to put in a sofa; it’s quite good to sit back on it. Newton’s sitting with him, too; and that’s nice; he can admit it, now, this late into the night.

“What were you going to get?” Hermann asks. “If, ah, you don’t mind my asking.”

“Mm,” Newton hums; and the sound vibrates against him. “Present. I, uh, realised I should probably get you something else.”

Oh. “That’s…you needn’t.”

“I wanted to,” Newton counters. “I want to.”

“I…” Hermann stops; words failing, because this—this is too close to _intimacy,_ here; and he should pull away, now, before it burns him again like it did the first time but he finds, oddly enough, that he doesn’t _want_ to.

Newton’s head rises; and his gaze locks with Hermann’s; shifting as the shadows shift as he moves. “Can I tell you something really stupid right now?”

“Have you ever said anything that’s _not?_ ”

“I’m serious,” Newton says; and it _feels_ like it, now; more serious even than that triple event and the end of the war and—well, _everything,_ barely eleven months ago; the weight of it tugging at the echoes of the ghost of the Drift bond between them.

Hermann nods; suddenly unable to formulate words.

“I was going to…” Newton hesitates. “I was going to , uh—figure out the postage and…send you my heart, so to speak—Christmas gift, as it were—, but then Tendo talked me out of it. Honestly, I think he’s probably right—why should I send you something so broken? But…”

Hermann draws in a breath. “Newton…”

“Let me finish. _Please._ I…I think it’s stupid, yeah, but…Hermann, we survived a fucking war. The least I can do is be honest for once in my life.”

 _Oh;_ and this is it; the intimacy crushing; painful, nearly, but welcomedly so; and Hermann embraces it; embraces _him,_ suddenly, and nearly violently, so much that it nearly knocks them over, but instead, somehow, they stumble to a compromise, Newton’s arms under his and gripping his shoulders and Hermann’s arm over his and; oh; some pain is worth, it, perhaps.

“Thank you,” Hermann whispers, softly, “I’m… _honoured._ ”

 _I want to give you mine, too,_ he doesn’t say, because he’s not sure he _can,_ yet, but he feels the hot exhale of Newton’s breath against his neck and knows he’s smiling and thinks, maybe, perhaps, Newton knows; perhaps he _understands._

“I do,” Newton murmurs, “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
